Chapter Twelve

CHAPTER TWELVE

Cinna

Nerves jangled in my bones as I sat in the back of the cab, ignoring the way the driver kept shooting me concerned glances in the rearview, likely worried about my smattering of bruises I hadn’t bothered to cover up yet, deciding I would get the makeup delivered to my apartment when I got there.

I wanted to stay at Dav’s.

And that was the exact reason I needed to leave.

The cab plowed over a pothole, jostling my whole body, reminding me with a slight ache between my thighs, of one of the reasons I had to go.

I didn’t regret it.

That wasn’t the right way to put it.

Because I was pretty sure my one night with Davide would be what I used as fantasy material for the rest of my life.

It wasn’t the physical act that was the problem.

It was the way it did something to me that was decidedly not physical.

I wouldn’t even pretend to understand the way I almost felt like he was inside me, even now, halfway across Brooklyn. Like he’d become a part of me without being aware that was even a possibility.

There was a strange, heavy feeling on my chest as we drove further and further away from the apartment that had been my home for almost a month. From the man who’d gone from a colleague, to a friend, to… something more.

It was the something more that scared me enough, as I lay in the bed beside him, watching him breathe in his sleep, desire pooling in my core.

It was that same something more that had me kissing him like he was going off to war, like I would never get to do so again.

Because I knew, in that moment, that I wouldn’t. Couldn’t.

That one night was all we were going to have.

No matter how much my body objected to that.

Seeing as Dav was, well, every bit as good in bed as he thought he was. As the rumors said. Better, even.

I mean, fuck, if that was how sex was supposed to be, I’d been missing out my whole life.

Sure, I’d had orgasms with men before. But nothing that felt like it overtook my whole body. Like it fucking rocked my soul in the process.

Ugh, I needed to stop thinking about it.

Even just the memory was making my stomach cramp with need as I passed the cabbie a tip, then opened the door and climbed out onto the sidewalk out front of my building.

I made a specific choice in where I lived. Namely, one of the rougher areas of Brooklyn. First, it was where I was raised. But, second, fellow criminals were always on the lookout for people who didn’t belong. It was like having a built-in security system. Barely a day went by that someone didn’t catch my eye, and shoot me a description of someone, asking if they were someone there for me or not. So I always knew when someone was snooping who shouldn’t have been

Of course, there was also not a lot of honor amongst most criminals. So I also understood that the local crew that was selling party drugs on the corner would sell me out in a heartbeat if the payout was big enough.

Still, at least they were aware of their surroundings, noticed shit that the average person wouldn’t.

“The fuck you been, ma?” one of said party drug dealers, Drake, asked, inclining his chin to me, head tipping to the side when he took in my face. “Someone got a taste of you?”

“They paid in blood,” I said, shrugging it off. “And what are you talking about? I’m always around,” I lied. Smoothly, seamlessly. You didn’t get to be as high up in the criminal world as I was without being able to wear a good poker face.

“Haven’t seen you is all.”

“Been busy,” I said.

“Know that feeling,” he agreed, then someone whistled for him, so he gave me a nod and walked off.

Alone, I made my way up to the door, sliding in my key with suspiciously shaky hands.

My mace was in my jacket pocket.

My knife in my pants.

And the gun I’d borrowed from Dav was sitting heavy in a borrowed holster at my waist.

They should have been reassuring.

But I’d had weapons on me when I’d been attacked the last time. It hadn’t done any good.

I sucked in a deep breath, beating back those thoughts, knowing how dangerous they were.

The only reason I’d gotten this far in my life and career was that I didn’t overthink. I acted in the moment. I trusted my gut and my skills. I didn’t worry shit to death and create scenarios in my head that were never going to come to pass. And I never believed anyone could take me out.

Delusional? Obviously.

But it had been keeping me from letting paranoia or fear get the better of me.

Clearly, that was going to be something I needed to work on now as I slid into the elevator, heart punching against my ribcage, imagining someone rushing in last minute, trapping me in there, and shit getting bad fast while I froze or just wasn’t strong enough.

I shook that off as I walked out onto my floor, nodding my head to the teenager who lived at the end of the hall, sitting with his back to the wall, his headphones over his ears, rocking out, and trying to drown out the sounds of his parents going at it yet again.

I felt for the kid. Could relate to him more than he could realize. Once in a while, when I noticed him out there for long periods of time, I’d invite him into my place to share some food with me. He didn’t talk much. And neither did I. But there was an understanding between us that made it unnecessary. Maybe, one day, if he didn’t do the smart thing, work hard in school and escape the neighborhood via a good education, I would offer him a job, let him work his way up.

I went to slide my key in my lock, but the pressure pushed my not only unlocked, but unlatched, door open.

Panic surged through my system as my hand went automatically for the gun, pulling it out without caring who might see me, then pushing the door fully open.

Now, my apartment wasn’t much to write home about. And, in fact, after spending almost a month at Dav’s nice place, it seemed even more stark than usual. The thing was, though, when you didn’t have much, it was easy to keep shit tidy.

But my place looked like a hurricane had blown through. Everything was out of place, knocked over, turned upside down.

Mother fuckers.

My jaw went to granite as I moved inside, my back hugging the wall as I took a turn through my living room, checking in my coat closet, then moving across the small galley kitchen, and across to the hallway.

I ducked into the bathroom first, checking in the linen closet, even though there were shelves in there, and yanking back the shower curtain.

Nothing.

That just left my bedroom.

The door was cracked, but I kicked it open, the sound of it cracking off the wall making my stomach clench as I stepped in, checking the closet.

“What—“ a voice started, cutting off as I whirled on the sound, gun raised, arms shaky.

To find the damn kid from the hall there, headphones around his neck, his brows raised.

“Whoa.”

“Jesus Christ. Don’t sneak up on someone like that,” I snapped, not caring how snarly I sounded. I was too freaked out to care. “Hey, get over here,” I demanded.

“Why?” he asked, but he was already moving toward me.

“Check under the bed for me,” I said, handing him the gun. “I can’t get down there,” I explained.

To my surprise, he took the gun and got on his knees, head nearly touching the carpet as he looked under the simple metal bed frame.

My ribs hurt more than I was willing to admit to myself. Courtesy, I was sure, of the borderline brutal way Dav had fucked me the night before.

I wasn’t complaining, though.

I’d always been drawn to Davide’s dark side.

That had just been a facet of it I didn’t know existed but was happy to be a part of.

But just for that one night.

Never again.

“Nothin’,” the kid said, getting back to his feet and handing me back my gun. “Someone broke in, huh?” he asked.

“I guess you didn’t see who.”

“Nah. But I go to school and shit,” he said, shrugging.

“How old are you?” I asked.

“Fifteen,” he said, puffing up his puny, skinny little kid chest as I tried not to smile.

He’d probably grow up to be good looking. He had good bone structure and dark green eyes. But he was so damn scrawny that he looked like a strong wind might blow him over. The baggy clothes hanging off of him weren’t exactly helping either.

“You have a name?” I asked.

“My friends call me Spike,” he claimed, chin lifting.

“No, they don’t,” I snorted. “Give me an actual name, kid.”

“Joel.”

“Alright, Joel. I’m gonna make you an offer,” I said, moving back out into the living area to close the door to the hallway, but not before doing a paranoid sweep of it first.

“I’m listening.”

“You sit your ass in that hallway, what? Pretty much from the minute you get home until two or three in the morning?”

“About that,” he agreed.

“If I give you my number, can I pay you to keep an eye on my place, and text me if you ever see someone coming to my door?”

“How much we talking?”

“More than you got now,” I said, but I was smiling. What can I say? I liked rough-around-the-edges people with a little bit of greed and hunger for more. Reminded me a lot of myself when I was young. “Two-fifty a week,” I offered.

“Done,” he agreed.

“But you gotta not get caught watching,” I told him, reaching for my wallet that had been sitting full at Dav’s house for weeks since he insisted on paying for everything. I had money stashed in my apartment that I needed to look for. But not with eyes watching.

“I’m always minding my own business,” he said, shrugging. “‘Cept I ain’t,” he admitted.

“Good. Because descriptions would be appreciated, but don’t make it obvious,” I said.

“Not my business, but seems like you could get cameras,” he said.

“The fuck kind of businessman are you, trying to lose the job I just gave you?” I asked, handing him the money. “Cameras are good, but I prefer eyes. Once they go downstairs, you can look out a window and let me know where they go. Cameras can’t.”

“I could lie. Camera’s can’t.”

“You’re a little shit,” I said, but I was giving him a smile. “I’m gonna have a couple deliveries coming over the next few hours. No need to text me if you see that today.”

“Got it,” he said, nodding as he went to the door, discreetly tucking the cash away.

“Hey, kid,” I called.

“Yeah.”

“Use some of that money to get yourself some food. You look like you’re gonna fall through your own ass.”

To that, I got a small smile as he moved out into the hall.

I waited until I was sure he had his music bumping again before I rushed to the door and slid the locks, minutes passing before I felt like I could take a full breath again.

I needed to calm down.

Some part of me had been expecting this.

Of course after I got away, they were going to want to track me down, finish what they started. The first place they’d look was my apartment.

Maybe it was tossed just because they were pissed when I didn’t show up.

But there was the potential that they’d been looking for something, so I went around my apartment, checking my hiding spots, finding my official documents, stashes of cash, and even my fake IDs and shit I paid a shitton of money for.

Nothing, as far as I could tell, was missing.

I tucked more cash into my wallet before finally taking a second to sit down and order the makeup I was going to need. Along with several new locks for the door. Motion alarms for the windows. And a few cameras small enough to hide just about anywhere.

I set my apartment back to rights as I waited for my deliveries, then installed the new locks. Three more on my main door. But also two on my bedroom. And an extra on my bathroom.

Outside of my bedroom, I had a fire escape. Sure, it was broken off near the bottom, but I’d always kind of liked that feature. It meant no one could use it to climb up and spy on any of us, or break into our places. But we could still use it in case of an emergency. Sure, the drop would hurt. Maybe even break a bone. But you’d survive.

As for the locks on the bathroom, well, that was just because the idea of being in there, naked, alone, and very vulnerable made my skin prickle and my stomach cramp.

Even after I had the locks installed, going in and taking off my clothes as I waited for the water to warm up was more nerve-racking than it had any right to be.

But I couldn’t let the fear take over my life.

So I forced myself into the shower, and let the spray wash away the scent of Dav all over me, pretending like losing that last little part of him didn’t make my chest ache in an alarming, unfamiliar way.

And if the gun sat right on the ledge of the tub the whole time, well, so be it.

Finished with that, I tried my hand at mixing the makeups until I finally had the right shade, then followed the instructions I found online, and dabbing lavender and green color correctors on the right bruise shades before applying some concealer, and, finally, the foundation.

My entire face felt like it couldn’t breathe. But no matter how bright a light I shined on my face, I couldn’t see the bruises anymore.

That was all that mattered.

Well, that, and doing a halfway decent job of wrapping up my ribs, so they didn’t smart when I was walking around.

Because it was time to get back to my life.

And, more so than that, my job.

See my men.

Make sure everyone knew I was still around, still in charge, still willing to knock some heads together if someone was fucking up.

As for the other shit, the stuff involving my attack, and the revenge I owed some pieces of shit for that?

Yeah, I planned to deal with that too.